


A Warm Cup of Tea

by Seesall



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Domestic, F/M, Fluff, Gallifrey is referenced, Lucy Saxon Deserves Better, Open to Interpretation, Probably ooc, Short One Shot, The Doctor is mentioned because Rassilon forbid I don't throw in their name at any given chance, The Master could be warming up to Lucy, The Master is not that big of an arsehole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-12 05:46:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19125811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seesall/pseuds/Seesall
Summary: Super short fic.Having a wife tends to entail all kinds of intimacy the Master could hardly care less about. Hardly.'English isn't my first language and it shows' club.





	A Warm Cup of Tea

**Author's Note:**

> To my Lucy Saxon: in other circumstances things could have been different.

Maintaining the identity of Harold Saxon was complicated for a variety of reasons. His relationship with Lucy Saxon was directly or indirectly the cause of quite a few of them.

Sitting at his desk and juggling with both taking notes in Circular Gallifreyan on a notebook (which he had got from.. what was it again? Tesco? Quite an improvement from the literal end of the Universe) and keeping the drums at a steady volume, the Master had hardly been paying attention to the digital clock next to him.

"Honey, it's 1 am..."  
The voice startled him, so strikingly sweet compared to the pounding in his head; he focused his gaze on his notes, where the 'n' was now sporting two lines instead of one.

"I know."  
He kept writing, drawing circles with the compass-like precision he had earned through painstakingly strict courses at the Academy. His mind held on to the fleeting thought, and he became distracted by the sudden memory of hours spent in the same dull classroom while the Suns shone brightly on inviting patches of red grass - perfect for a nap and some daydreams. The words of the Doctor echoed along the drums. What did he mean by: "everything changed, we're the only ones left"?

It occurred to him that she was still in the room when he heard her awkwardly clearing her throat.  
"Aren't you going to sleep?"  
This time, the Master dignified Lucy with a full stare.  
"My sweet Lucy," He began in a saccharine tone, making overly exaggerated gestures, "let's revise this. I am not human. I only need a couple of hours of sleep, which means I can use night time to work, instead of wasting precious hours."  
And no hour had to go to waste: everything had to be prepared for the arrival of the Doctor. He knew he was coming, he could feel it. After all, he had always been very keen on foiling his plans.

Lucy nodded, a dull hint of understanding in her docile eyes. "Alright... but won't you even rest?" She pleaded, as her gaze fell on the Master's notes: merely drawings with no actual meaning to humans, but even she caught on pretty quickly with the fact that it was a different writing system.

The Master sighed. The beating in his head was starting to speak to him - the way it always did: talking nothing but violence. He kept it at bay. Not now.  
"I will. Later. I promise. Now, please, my dear, let me finish this research."  
Lucy didn't quite look convinced - giving him those irritatingly obtuse doe eyes - but eventually left the room, leaving the Time Lord to his work.

A few minutes later, when the Master looked up from the - unbelievably primitive, really, but everything was better than what he had as Yana - webpage he had been intensely browsing through, he found under his nose a teapot and a huge mug filled to the brim with hot tea. He glanced around, but Lucy was already nowhere to be found. Although the faint sound of a lightswitch being turned off from next room was a dead giveaway of her whereabouts. The Master grabbed the mug and took a sip of the beverage English people seemed to be so fond of, as he tapped on the writing desk four times. He leaned back in his chair, staring at a spot on the wall while drinking.

He had been prone to considering Lucy Saxon as more of a nuisance than an actual spouse: a human could only dream of obtaining a certain level of interest from a God-like being such as a Time Lord. Of course, no jab intended at Martha Jones, or at the x number of humans or otherwise lowly creatures who had previously shown interest in the Doctor. No, Lucy was just... a tool to reach his one true goal, he thought to himself, sipping on Earl Grey tea from an IKEA mug. And sometimes - when the nights got cold and the drumming became unbearable - she was a particularly caring tool, helping him to maintain stability. A warm cup of tea for a stormy night.

By the time he had written down everything he had to, the tea was long finished and when the clock was showing 05:27 AM, the Master had just crawled under the blankets, earning a shiver from Mrs. Saxon. His body temperature was significantly lower than the average human - at about 15°C - but Lucy didn't seem to mind.  
In a drowsy state she dared snuggle in the Master's arms: a place very few people had ever both willingly gone to and managed to found comfort and solace in. The Master himself could count them on his hands, even without inconveniencing quite a few fingers.

The Master allowed it, going as far as to wrapping his arm on Lucy's waist.  
He shoved all of his thoughts and feelings aside: in 4 hours, Harold Saxon would have been at a press conference and Lucy Saxon would have woken up to an empty bed as always. Except perhaps that time, she might have found on her nightstand a warm cup of vanilla tea.


End file.
